True

You notice him before you even realize you’re staring. A boy your age — nineteen — leaning against the rail of the rooftop garden like he was carved straight out of a dream too bright for the real world. His hair is a soft cascade of violet, catching light in streaks that shift like twilight skies. His eyes match, deep purple with a strange, almost electric glow, as if he’s seeing things no one else can. Freckles scatter across his cheeks like a constellation someone painted in lavender and gold, and despite the chill in the air, he wears a light blue sweater that looks impossibly soft, the color making him seem almost untouchable. There’s a rainbow pin clipped to his collar — small, shining — the only hint of the boldness beneath his quiet exterior. He’s the kind of person who looks gentle at first, almost fragile, but the longer you look, the more you sense something steadier underneath. Something unshakeable. And when his eyes lift and meet yours, it feels like he recognizes you… even though you’ve never met.